


Rattling bones

by Builder



Series: Powers/No Powers Choose-Your-Own-Adventure [29]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Depression, Established Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:01:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22022995
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Builder/pseuds/Builder
Summary: “I just– I’m sorry.”  Bucky scrubs his hand up the side of his face.  He’s really done it now.  Gone and made everything awkward.  Steve’s the love of his life, and now he can barely look at him for all the embarrassed weird he’s stirred up between them.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Powers/No Powers Choose-Your-Own-Adventure [29]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/760377
Comments: 3
Kudos: 34





	Rattling bones

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on Tumblr @builder051

Bucky stares absently into the kitchen, wondering if he can come up with a plan to off himself with two pieces of junk mail and a can opener. There has to be a blade in there somewhere. Otherwise he can probably bleed out by paper cut. Maybe. Maybe not. 

He blinks and shakes his head. 

“What’s up?” Steve asks, nudging Bucky’s shoulder with his own before returning his gaze to the rerun of Deadliest Catch. 

Bucky shakes his head again. “Stupid,” he mumbles.

“Tell me.”

“No.”

Steve sighs. He sets the empty popcorn bowl on the coffee table and flicks off the TV. “We’re not getting anywhere with this, are we?”

Bucky refuses to look at him. He’d refuse to look at himself if he had the option. “Sorry,” he whispers. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry for, Buck.” Steve runs his fingers through his hair, then shifts on the couch so he’s face-to-face with Bucky. It’s harder to look elsewhere now. 

“Ok.” Bucky tucks his chin, his stubble scraping against the collar of his sweatshirt. He needs to shave, he knows, but it’s been difficult enough to get dressed, let alone make time for personal care and grooming.

“I mean, you have to know that.” Steve lifts his arm as if to give Bucky a hug, but Bucky flinches, and Steve goes limp. “I’m sorry.” 

“No, I didn’t mean–”

“No, it’s your choice. It’s fine.”

“I just– I’m sorry.” Bucky scrubs his hand up the side of his face. He’s really done it now. Gone and made everything awkward. Steve’s the love of his life, and now he can barely look at him for all the embarrassed weird he’s stirred up between them. He starts to stand up, but Steve opens his mouth again.

“Wait.”

Bucky sits obediently, like a puppy before his master. “Buck.” Steve presses his lips together. “I’m, just, it’s…” 

Bucky rises again, slowly this time. Steve doesn’t stop him. He just looks resigned. “Not tonight, huh?”

Bucky slowly shakes his head. His hair moves around his shoulders, swishing past his cheekbones with dark drama that doesn’t match the pitiful look on his face. “No,” he says in the smallest whisper of a voice. 

“‘S alright.” Steve swipes at his eyebrow casually, then rubs his fingers together as if to divest them of popcorn salt. “I know some are rough for you. For us.”

Bucky nods. “Yeah.” He coughs. “Should I, uh, should I take the couch?”

“No,” Steve says quickly. “Take the bed. I’ll sleep here.” He jumps to his feet and scurries to the laundry room to procure an extra blanket. “I’ll be fine. You go on upstairs. Go on.” 

He stays in front of the washer and dryer longer than necessary, waiting for Bucky to leave. Bucky wonders if he’s going to cry. He won’t judge Steve if he does. It just seems like kind of a small thing for him to get upset over. Bucky, on the other hand, tends to cry over happenings such as a mishap with the coffeemaker. 

Guilt and a sense of misplaced judgement roil in the pit of Bucky’s stomach, and he wonders if maybe the popcorn isn’t setting so well. He places a hand on his abdomen and considers making for the bathroom, but he just trips up the steps, sits on the edge of the bed, and drops his elbows to his knees and his head in his hand. 

He’s royally fucked everything up is what he’s done. Steve probably can’t stand him anymore. It’s only a matter of time before they go from sleeping separately to living separately, probably. Bucky breathes out long and hard, wondering for a moment where the hell he’ll go before the sense of despair in his throat takes over and the first few tears finally start to fall. 

He launches himself face first into the pillows, hoping to muffle the sobs enough that Steve won’t hear him and come running bearing comfort. How embarrassing that would be, to need help after he’s already sent Steve on his way for the night. Well, Steve had sent himself. At least halfway. 

Bucky draws his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arm around his legs and letting his stump shoulder burrow into the mattress. He cries openly, no longer worried Steve will hear him. In fact, he hopes Steve does. Steve, who probably lies peacefully downstairs, stretched out on the secondhand sofa, watching television while Bucky loses his ever loving shit.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky mutters into his pillow, tears running down his cheeks and into his mouth. “I’m so sorry.” 

He isn’t sure who he’s talking to; him or Steve, or both of them maybe. Or neither. All he knows that is this is that he means it. And this is no way to spend the night.


End file.
